


Sonde's Big Book of Angst

by sondepoch



Series: Sonde's Sunday Snippets :D [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Multi, chapters will be separately tagged for triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 20,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sondepoch/pseuds/sondepoch
Summary: A set of drabbles from tumblr, to be updated and completed throughout the course of this week. Everything is angst ;)~Sonde's Sunday Snippets
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Barbatos & Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Simeon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Series: Sonde's Sunday Snippets :D [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007187
Comments: 32
Kudos: 177





	1. Intro

This book is a compilation of requests sent in on Sunday :) They will be completed throughout the course of this week. Each snippet is based around a different character with various lines of dialogue, the overarching theme being angst.

This weeks requests are **closed,** but feel free to tune in to my tumblr and join us for another round next Sunday. Follow me on tumblr (@sondepoch) to get updates and participate :D


	2. Satan I-I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Close your eyes — I don't want you to see me like this." + Satan
> 
> TW: Death

He always knew it would end like this.

But he never expected that it would end so soon.

"You're going to make it," He whispers into your ear, clutching your figure like a lifeline as he rocks your body back and forth, desperately hoping that if he hugs you tight enough, he'll be able to trap your soul in your body and prevent the curse from activating. "You're going to live—I'll—I'll make sure of it—I'm going to find a cure, and—and—"

"Satan."

Your voice is like wind. There's no sound to it, just a breathlessness that Satan wishes was caused by something other than your nearing demise.

"Please, please don't," He mumbles, holding you tighter against his body. "Don't say anything, don't go." He's clinging to you now, pressing his forehead against yours and trying to shield your body from the outside air, the outside cold, the outside world that was brutal enough to do this to you.

But the outside isn't where the curse is, is it? No, it's already taken roots in the depths of your body, dampening the fire of your soul from inside out.

You drape a weak arm around his body, frail fingers just barely clutching the collar of his shirt while rubbing soothing circles into the base of his neck, a familiar gesture you've always used to calm him down.

Satan hates how, even now, he finds comfort in the movement.

"Close your eyes," You breathe, the light in your eyes already fading. "I don't want you to see me like this."

The blonde chokes on nothing. A desperate sob catches in his throat as he mindlessly heeds your wish and buries his head in your neck, pulling his body ever closer to yours.

"You're going to live, you're going to live," He mumbles into your ear, over and over again as if saying it makes it true. As if hoping for it will make it real. As if he can't already feel how you're growing colder in his arms, your breath hitching and a terrifying gasp falling from your throat right before your fingers come to a stop on his shoulder and—

Satan roars when he feels your warmth disappear, the sound shaking the Devildom as he howls at the world for taking away the last good thing in his life. He roars and he roars, clutching your small body in his arms until his throat is raw. And still, he continues to scream, the pain of his voice, his throat, his body only egging him on. And yet, all the pain in the world is nothing compared to the raw anguish Satan feels when he stares at your misty eyes, the light in them forever faded and never to return.


	3. Barbatos I-II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have no idea how far I went — to save you." + Barbatos

You never would have gone with him if he hadn't looked so _panicked._

It's the first time you've ever seen proper emotion on the butler's face—and the amount of emotion he's presently showing is enough to last a lifetime, the demon's eyes lit up with anxiety, desperation, and distress.

And there's something else, too.

You study his face as he continues to tug you along in a sprint, his fingers latched around your wrist with just enough firmness to keep your body at his pace as he leads you down a path you've never seen before.

_Oh._

Your eyes soften when you understand what it is that's tensing his jaw so resolutely as he quietly urges you to run faster.

_Terror._

"Barbatos, I can't—" The breath catches in your throat, your legs stumbling. It feels like he's been forcing you to run with him for hours at this point, and while you trust him with your life, you're not sure your body can physically take much more of this exertion.

The butler seems to understand your predicament before the words have even left your lips, tugging you closer to him and lifting your body up in his arms with the swiftness that only a demon can have.

Now that he no longer needs to worry about you keeping pace with him, he only seems to run faster.

"You have to—" You watch as he swallows hard, his usual facade of apathy completely broken. "You have to _go,"_ He whispers, taking a sharp corner that knocks the wind from your body even though you're no longer running. "Solomon will take you. He'll protect you. You need to do what he says, and you _cannot_ come back, not until the world has forgotten about you."

"Wha—" Your eyes widen when you realize the implication behind Barbatos's words. "I—I _can't!_ The brothers will be waiting for me, and my family in the human world will—"

"You are going to die," Barbatos whispers, rounding a corner and glancing behind him before setting you down. "Unless you do as I say."

"But _why?"_ You gasp out. It feels surreal. There's too much happening and it's all so abrupt—the same shock that settled over your body when you were first whisked to the Devildom is enveloping you whole, the only thing grounding you being Barbatos's firm hands as they hold your shoulders.

"I made a mistake."

He refuses to look you in the eye.

"And now, we must both pay for it."

"Wha—that doesn't make sense! You have to tell me where I'm going, or—or at least _why!"_

Barbatos's eyes soften at your stubbornness, the same headstrong obstinacy that made him first fall for you.

"You're supposed to be dead," He whispers, resting his forehead against yours. "All the timelines wanted you dead."

The confusion on your face is apparent, another _what are you talking about?_ already rolling off your lips before footsteps behind you draw both your attention away.

"Barbatos. Diavolo is going to be here in one minute." The usual playfulness in Solomon's expression is painfully absent as he tenses his jaw.

"You have no idea how far I went to save you," Barbatos mumbles, removing his gloves deftly to hold your face in his hands for the first time. "But every second of it was worth it."

"Wait!" You gasp as Solomon begins tugging your body away, pulling you away from Barbatos as you struggle against his grip. "What did you do? Tell me! Let me thank you!"

But the butler remains painfully quiet as Solomon tugs you forward, turning his body away as his demon form manifests. You struggle the whole time as Solomon brings you to a casting circle, desperately reaching your arm out to grab Barbatos even though he's too far away.

"Stop!" You screech when Solomon begins muttering words in a language you don't know, the casting circle beginning to glow brightly. "Stop it! Solomon, let me speak with Barbatos!"

But at this point, neither man is paying any attention to you, and the last sight you see in the Devildom is Barbatos's back angled away from you, his body poised to fight as the outline of a terrifying shadow draws closer and closer—its silhouette looking painfully similar to Diavolo's but the wrathful bloodlust rolling off the entity's body being too murderous for you to ever believe that it's truly the crown prince.

If only you knew.

You scream in frustration as the sight vanishes, your body abruptly transported to a place you've never seen, a place you don't know.

Your mouth is already open in protest as you prepare to demand Solomon to bring you back, to let you see Barbatos, to return you so you can have a proper conversation with the demon who supposedly saved your life.

But before you can utter a single word, he speaks.

"You won't understand."

And then he leaves you, numb and confused in this unfamiliar land that is untouched by time.

The truth is that Solomon the Wise was wrong.

You will understand, one day.

You will understand that you were born to be a martyr, an instigator of the eventual uniting of the three realms. You will understand that Barbatos broke his pact of loyalty to protect you, sabotaging all of Diavolo's plans in a single effort to save your life, to save your happiness. And you will understand that Barbatos did all this out of love for you, the kind of love that only an immortal can harbor after spending infinity watching someone else, dancing between timelines to learn every aspect of your being. And in the end, you will finally understand that Barbatos sent you here with Solomon to protect you; because he knew that Diavolo would beat him down and he would be ordered to manipulate time such that the world could hoist your head on a spear and name you the champion for its cause, the only fate Barbatos wished to save you from.

But by then, the Barbatos you know will be gone. The love that drove him to such lengths to protect you will be beaten out of his body. His heart will be gone, replaced with an iron curse of loyalty to the crown that only grows stronger with every heartbeat.

And the love that once drove him to commit every sin a demon knows? The love that drove him to do the unspeakable, to dirty his name and ruin his reputation? The love that was so powerful even Barbatos was weak next to it, bowing his head to devote himself to its will?

Gone. Not even a memory, buried forever in the sea of time. 


	4. Simeon I-III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Close your eyesー I don't want you to see me like this." + Simeon
> 
> TW: Torture, blood, referenced violence

You always thought Simeon told you not to sin because he was an angel. Because it was built into his nature to preach holiness. Because he was an envoy of God meant to keep humans like you pure.

Looking back, he was always so adamant about it. Persistent, bordering into _pushy_ when he would purse his lips and tell you to pray, to ask for forgiveness, to bow to God and confess your transgressions.

You truly believed that he only said all that because he wanted to keep his lover pure.

You should have known better.

"How did you get down here?"

Simple words, but they're spoken so shakily. As if he can feel how the fabric of your relationship is cracking now that you've seen it, now that you've seen _this._

"I..." The words catch in your throat, and you abruptly find yourself unable to articulate that you simply got lost, you were just wandering around in hopes of finding someone you knew.

And in truth, maybe you were secretly hoping you'd find your boyfriend here.

But you never wanted to see him like this.

"I—I can explain," He blurts, stepping away from the human that's tied up at his feet, their back exposed and bloodied from the whip in his hands. "It's—it's not what it looks like—"

You take a step back the moment he turns his body to you, a shudder running up your spine when you see the spiked barbs that decorate the whip in Simeon's hand, chunks of human flesh still attached to some pieces.

The whip is designed to hurt.

"What is this?" You whisper, praying that this is a dream. That you'll wake up in Simeon's arms and when you tell him of this nightmare, he'll smile lovingly and tell you for the hundredth time that he's an angel, that he can't sin, that something like this is an atrocity his kind is simply incapable of committing.

"It's—this is just one of my jobs as an angel! These humans have been committed to Purgatory—they need to pay for the sins they committed in their lifetime, and I'm just purifying them so that they can come to heaven— and it's—it's why I've been making sure that you stay pure! You won't ever need to endure this!"

A choked gasp falls from your lips when you finally pull your gaze away from Simeon, staring at the bloodied lumps of flesh that have been deposited on the other side of the room. Fragments of bone stick out from their bodies, tubes of their intestines ripped open. Each body is so deformed that it's hard for you to believe they're even real, each one twisted into a shape so inhumane that you wouldn't believe they ever alive if not for the agonized drawl of wails that fall from what you can only imagine must have once been their mouths.

"Don't—don't look," Simeon gasps, dropping the whip. He tries to approach you, but for every step he takes forward, you take two back, nothing but fear running through your mind as you stare at the man who has mutilated so many of your own kind. "Please," He breathes.

"Stay back," You warn, your voice shaky.

To think that you let a man like this court you. A man capable of such horror into your bed. A man responsible for such brutality into your heart, which is aching with betrayal from the sheer horror of everything in front of you.

If your legs weren't trembling so viciously, you would be running the other direction right now.

"Little lamb," Simeon calls weakly. "Just close your eyes, just forget what you've seen." He reaches a hand out to you, but your eyes only continue to dart back and forth, surveying the buckets of blood on the floor and the various instruments of torture that have been bloodied from overuse. "Please," He mumbles. "Please, I don't want you to think of me like this—I don't want you to see me like this—"

"I don't—" Your words falter, caught in the lump that's forming in the back of your throat, but you force them past your lips all the same. "I don't want to see you ever again, Simeon."

And then you're running from the man you loved, cursing yourself for ever believing that he was holy. 


	5. Barbatos I-IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was — it was supposed to end differently! It was — supposed to — no!" + Barbatos

Diavolo often finds himself wishing that Barbatos would show more emotion.

It's only at rare times like now, when his beloved butler drops the frigid facade of indifference, that Diavolo remembers why he commanded Barbatos to learn how to control his emotions in the first place.

Because for all the emotions that the Avatars of Sin personify, none of them can hold a candle to Barbatos when he finally lets the mask fall.

"Let go," Barbatos hisses, his nails digging into Diavolo's skin and drawing blood while his tail continues to viciously whip at the prince's body, each hit making Diavolo wince in pain.

"No," The prince responds, using magic to strengthen his grip on the butler's arms, just barely holding Barbatos back from truly lashing out and destroying everything in his wake. "You _cannot_ interfere with fate."

"This isn't fate!" Barbatos seethes, his tail striking Diavolo in the tender spot between his wings. "The human is _my_ soulmate, not Lucifer's! You swore to me that you would let me have them—you _swore!"_

"The human has chosen Lucifer," Diavolo responds through gritted teeth, feeling his magic falter as Barbatos continues to attempt to escape. The prince tugs the butler backward, just barely stopping him from crashing through the glass which oversees the sight of you and Lucifer on your first date, and Diavolo is abruptly thankful that this windowpane is on the third floor of the castle, beyond any prying eyes which might see Barbatos in this state. "And we must honor their decision."

"No!" The butler roars, his body lighting up with magic, the turquoise fringe spreading to his entire head as his body slips into its true form in an attempt to battle Diavolo away, to stop Lucifer from courting you when Barbatos knows that the Avatar of Pride was never meant to be your suitor.

Diavolo just holds on tighter.

"It wasn't—this isn't supposed to happen!This isn't what the timeline held!"

The prince feels his heart go out to his friend at the raw anguish in his voice.

"Barbatos," The prince whispers, tightening his grip around his friend. He fights through the pain he feels, the way Barbatos's magic burns his skin as he hangs on tighter, but Diavolo forces himself to do this.

He knows that Barbatos isolated himself from physical contact in hopes that you would be the first to break it after so many millennia, but the butler needs comfort.

And based on the shy smile you're giving Lucifer right now, Diavolo knows that the comfort won't be coming from you.

The hug Diavolo gives Barbatos is pitiful, a mockery of what a true embrace would feel like given that its purpose is still to restrain the butler, to prevent him from breaking the window that separates him from you.

But Diavolo can feel Barbatos's heart as it writhes in agony, his wrath twisting into desperation.

"No, my lord, _stop!"_ The butler pleads, reaching an arm out. "They—this isn't supposed to happen—I have to stop this! It was—it was supposed to end differently! It was supposed to—no!"

Barbatos howls when he sees Lucifer intertwine his fingers with yours.

Diavolo's eyes widen the second he sees his right-hand man place a hand on your cheek, a flood of curses running through the prince's mind as he realizes what is about to happen.

_No,_ he thinks, realizing that he needs to pull Barbatos away from this window as soon as possible and _no Barbatos cannot see this_ and _no, if Barbatos sees this then he will break, and—_

"Lucifer won't love them right," Barbatos gasps, not even realizing that the gap between your faces is closing, that your lips are growing nearer. "I'll love them so much more—Lucifer won't make them happy enough—"

Diavolo uses the last of his strength to pull Barbatos away, desperately trying to stop his friend from seeing what will doubtlessly crush his heart more than anything else, and—

He is too late.

Lucifer's hand finds the back of your head and your lips meet, all the resistance flooding out of Barbatos's body when he realizes what is happening.

What you're allowing to happen.

What you even seem to _want._

Barbatos's wails of agony stop instantly, the butler making no sounds even as Diavolo finally pulls him away from the window, away from the sight of the one person Barbatos has been waiting to love all these centuries finding happiness in the arms of another man.

Abruptly, it is silent.

Barbatos's mouth moves but no words come out, his eyes still frozen in shock of what had happened—and the hum of magic fades to nothing, the room finally calm and quiet once more.

But Diavolo swears he can hear the sound of Barbatos's heart breaking.


	6. Lucifer I-V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I could take it all back... I would." + Lucifer
> 
> TW: Cheating

He's kneeling at your feet, fingers clasped around yours like his life depends on it.

"Please," He croaks, his voice hoarse from shouting after you for so long. "Please just listen to me," He mumbles, staring at your hand, at the sparkly diamond ring he gifted to you three months ago.

You can see the hope in his eyes when he realizes that you're still wearing it.

Your eyes widen when you realize that in your rage, you had forgotten to rip it off.

The demon is dressed immaculately, everything about him perfect. Though that's the usual, for Lucifer. Always perfect, always proud. Always beautiful, always confident. Always strong, always stunning.

Always more than you deserved.

And it seemed that he had at last realized it.

"I'm listening," You tell him, even if only because you know it's impossible to get away from him. If you fled to Purgatory Hall, Simeon would preach forgiveness to you. If you scurried to another brother's room, Lucifer would break the door down. So here you sit, in the room of the man you love. Waiting to hear his explanation for why he ever thought it would be okay to cheat on you.

"The demon you saw today—"

"The demon who had their tongue down your throat," You correct, glaring at Lucifer. Your jaw tenses, anger searing through your veins once more. There is no sympathy in your heart for the way his face falls when he sees your stormy glare, no room for love left after the bitterness of seeing him kiss someone else.

"They mean nothing to me." Lucifer looks up at you with earnest eyes, having the nerve to intertwine his fingers with yours.

You bat his hands away.

"I fell into temptation," He continues, unfazed by the action. "It was my fault, I know. But I swear to you, that demon meant nothing to me. I do not care for them at all. I love you, and only you, and—"

"I don't love cheaters."

The words are out of your mouth before you can even think about them, and for a moment, Lucifer's face descends into shock. As if he has the audacity to be surprised that you could stop loving him so easily, as if he doesn't realize that you _have_ to stop loving him because it's the only way to save yourself from the pain of this heartbreak.

But then, he recovers.

As usual.

His pride takes over and he leans his shoulders back, staring up at you with eyes so earnest you might think he's being honest, if you didn't know what he is capable of.

"I will win your heart back," He whispers, brushing his thumb over your hand. "I will do whatever it takes to prove to you that there is no one else for me. _Whatever_ it takes."

Wrath surges through your heart once more, rage burning through your body when you see that he hasn't changed at all. He's still the same prideful demon, arrogant as he is unfaithful, oh so _confident_ that he'll be able to win your heart back like it's a cheap prize at a carnival, like you're a game to be played and won.

"I will never betray your trust again."

How bold of him to presume that he will ever acquire your trust again.

"I swear it."

You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes, to scoff at the fact that a _demon_ is offering you a holy swear as if it means anything.

"Please."

You ignore his words, waiting for him to finish.

In truth, it looks like he is doing the same. Just waiting for you to give in, to confess that you aren't angry at him, to sigh and give him a kiss the way he expects you to.

"Are you done?" You ask when his speech seems to be over, your gaze no less intense as you glare at him.

"No," He whispers. "I need you to _understand_ that—that—that I love you and today was a bad decision. A fluke. A moment of stupidity. If I could take it back—if I could take everything back and start all over again—I would, and—"

"That's lovely," You interrupt, your voice flat.

You pull your ring off—the ring you never should have accepted in the first place—and press it in Lucifer's hands, savoring the cool relief your finger feels when it is at last exposed to fresh air.

"Because if I could take everything back, I would, too."


	7. Mammon I-VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look at me! How can you call this dependable?" + Mammon 

Mammon is the only one who isn't on your bed.

The rest of the brothers are positioned carefully around you, each of them close to you but far enough from your legs to make sure they won't accidentally aggravate your injury, all cautiously trying to keep you as comfortable as possible.

But even as the six brothers fawn over you and whisper jokes into your ear, Mammon's silence seems to outweigh them all.

After nearly five minutes have gone by without a single word coming from the second-born, Lucifer has had enough.

"Everyone, out."

The demons on our bed comply reluctantly, but even they seem to recognize that their presence isn't what you need right now.

It goes without saying that the 'everyone' Lucifer was referring to didn't include Mammon.

Which works out, because by the time the other brothers are gone from your room and your door is shut, Mammon hasn't moved from his position where he stands six feet away from the bed, staring at the ground with his fists clenched tight.

"Mammon," You whisper, reaching a hand out to him. If you could accelerate your healing and walk to him, you would, but this is all you can do. "Mammon, please. Come here."

He takes a single step forward.

"Babe," You whisper, smiling softly. "Closer. I want you standing right next to me—actually, I want you in bed next to me. And I want to cuddle. And I'm in the mood to eat those sweets Beel brought, so if you wanna share, we can—"

"How can you act as if nothing happened?"

The tone in Mammon's voice makes you flinch.

"Wha—Mammon, what are you saying? This isn't the first time I've been injured in the Devildom, and yeah, it'll be a while before I'm set to get out of the wheelchair, but it's not a big—"

"It _is_ a big deal!" Mammon snaps, finally lifting his face away from the ground so you can see his eyes. "Your legs were fucking _broken_ by some asshole demon and I wasn't there to save you—it's a goddamn huge deal!"

"Mammon," You whisper, your heart melting when you realize that he's been crying. Not just been. He _is_ crying, tears flowing out of his eyes with no signs of stopping, his lip trembling and his shoulders shaking. "Mammon, come here. Let me give you a hug."

You reach your arm out to pull him closer, but he recoils instantly.

"No!" You can see the self-loathing in his eyes, the raw anguish he feels over not having been able to protect you. "Don't you get it?! This is my fault! How can you want me by your side when I'm the reason you're like this in the first place?!"

"Mammon," You whisper, sitting up straighter on the bed. "Mammon, you are _not_ the reason I'm like this. You are not the demon who did this to me. You are not the demon who hurt me."

"No," He mumbles, stepping further back. "I'm just the demon who couldn't protect you."

Your fingers tense into fists by your side, fear sinking in as soon as you realize that Mammon's already antagonized himself in his head. That he's blamed himself. That he's destroying himself from the inside, his mind working against him.

"Baby," You mumble, slowly shifting your body on the bed. "You have done so much for me." You twist your torso, moving blankets around to free your legs. "You make me smile every day. You are the reason I'm able to be happy here. You have been nothing but kind, loving, dependable, and—"

"Dependable?" Mammon mumbles, looking at you with so much pent up frustration it hurts. "Look at me! How can you call this dependable? How can you think I'm even a _little_ good for you when I've done nothing but make things worse for you ever since you've come to the Devildom?!"

You free your legs completely, dangling them off the side of the bed.

And it's stupid—one of the stupidest things you've done since coming to the Devildom—but you lean forward.

Mammon's arms are around you before your legs can touch the floor, the demon stopping you from attempting to walk before you can even try, but your goal is achieved.

"Are you stupid?" He cries out. "You would have hurt yourself so much more—"

"I just wanted you to come closer," You whisper, leaning your body forward to pull Mammon into an embrace. "Because I love you. And I don't blame you for what happened. And I don't think there's anything you could have done to prevent it. I just want you here with me."

You cling to his body as he settles you back underneath the blankets, cushioning your legs and propping them on top of a pillow before he pulls back.

But the look in his eyes isn't any less miserable when he stares down at you.

If anything, he looks worse.

"Mammon—" You begin, already prepared to try to get him to fall out of whatever depressive state he's begun to enter, ready to free him from the monster of his mind which is feeding him nothing but lies.

"Look at what I do to you," He whispers, his throat bobbing as he swallows. "Just being here makes you do stupid things. I can't even stop that."

"Mammon, that's not—"

"I can't protect you from anything. Or anyone. I'm bad for you, can't you see that? You should—you should have picked any of my brothers over me! They would have at least _protected_ you properly, not like me, and—"

"I don't want any of them!"

"Are you kidding?! Don't you get it? You shouldn't be with me! I'm bad for you! You're only going to keep getting hurt as long as we're together—as long as you choose someone like me to protect you!"

"Mammon," You croak, reaching your arm out for him when he begins to step away from you. "Mammon, don't go. Let's talk about this. Don't—" Your voice chokes up at the very thought, fear beginning to set in when you realize that he's getting closer and closer to the door. "Don't leave me!"

"I have to!" He reaches for the doorknob. "We shouldn't be together in the first place! It's the only way you can be safe—the only way you can be with someone who'll protect you!"

"No!" You screech, desperately trying to kick your legs into action but failing, unable to do anything but _watch_ as the man you love storms out of your room with more mumbles of how this is for the best—slamming your door shut after him such that no one can hear your wails of distress.

"Come back," You mumble, tears now beginning to stream down your face. "Come back, Mammon, come back!"

It's the first time he doesn't.


	8. Asmodeus I-VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No — No, no, no, no, no — ! Not like this !" + Asmo + NSFW
> 
> TW: Drugging, dubious consent

It was only a little bit of magic.

Just a smidgen, really. Not even a drop, compared to the true scope of his strength.

And Asmo always thought that it was so _unfair_ that his natural powers wouldn't work on you. He thought it had to be some cruel prank from God himself—that the human Asmo would end up falling in love with would be the only one his charms could never work on.

So when he slipped the famed Cupid's Aphrodisiac into your drink, Asmo hardly thought twice. He wasn't doing anything wrong; he was just evening the playing field. He set himself in your line of vision as soon as you swallowed your drink, a beautiful smile spreading on his face when he realized that the magic would now set in, that you would now grow as lustful for him as he is for you.

What he failed to account for was that the fact that the Cupid's Aphrodisiac affects humans differently than it does demons.

At first, it was hardly noticeable.

You felt an undeniable attraction to the first man you laid eyes upon after consuming your beverage, your eyes falling on Asmo at the same time a rush of heat pooled in your groin, an abrupt lust taking over.

Then, it was obvious that the magic had begun to work.

The sheer speed at which you managed to strip both your bodies was astonishing, and a high-pitched giggle spilled from Asmo's throat the moment you pulled him on top of you and _demanded_ that he fuck you, the sheer depth of the need you were feeling turning you bolder than the demon had ever seen you.

Of course, Asmo barely thought twice about your words.

You were merely behaving how one _should_ behave when they see the Avatar of Lust—instant attraction, mindless desire, and insatiable need.

At the time, Asmo was pleased to see you so lustful for him. Proud that he had finally captured your attention the way he had been aching for on so many lonely nights. Satisfied, and genuinely happy when you kept pulling him back for more, your lips never leaving his skin for long as you gasped out for him to move _faster, Asmo, go deeper, go harder._

But by the time you've had seven orgasms, the sheets covered in both your and Asmo's fluids, the demon knows something is wrong.

Because humans aren't supposed to be like this.

"Asmo~" His name rolls prettily off your lips as you grind your hips against his softened cock, already begging for him for more even though you came mere seconds ago. "Asmo, more. Please. I need you."

There's no shyness in your expression as you reach between your thighs and press them apart, nothing but raw _lust_ filling your expression as you all but showcase your hole to the Avatar of Lust.

"You—"The demon stops in the middle of his sentence, swallowing nervously. "You still want to go?" He asks, a nervous smile forming on his lips.

He knows it shouldn't be possible.

Not this quickly.

Not for a human.

"Yessss," You all but moan, reaching a hand lower to begin stroking his length. "I need you now. Can't—ngh—can't feel good without your cock."

For the first time, the demon's body doesn't react to your ministrations, not even as you accelerate the speed of your hand when you pump him in an attempt to get him hard.

This isn't you,he realizes abruptly. This isn't the human he fell in love with.

This is an empty vessel searching for pleasure.

You give up on trying to harden Asmo's cock and opt to finger yourself, no shame present as you roll your head back and slot your digits inside your hole as deep as they'll go, a garbled gasp escaping from your lips before you thrust your hips forward, and then you're fucking yourself on your fingers.

Asmo's eyes widen at the sight, at how you barely even seem to register his presence now that he's no longer actively fucking you.

"No," Asmo mumbles, horror sinking in at the sight of you doing something which is so not _you._

"No," He repeats, trying to tell himself that it's not true.

After all, he barely used anything. It was only a bit of magic, just a _drop_ of the aphrodisiac. He's used it hundreds of times on his demon partners, and it's never had any adverse effects, and—

_Oh._

He's used it hundreds of times on his demon partners.

Never the human ones.

Asmo realizes his mistake the moment your body crashes through another orgasm, your hips jerking into the air as you fuck yourself through your high.

"It can't be," He mumbles, a nervous laughter beginning to echo throughout the room. You barely seem to notice it, merely going back to teasing your hole as a hand finds its way up to your nipple, pinching hard.

"There's no way," Asmo mumbles, staring down at you. "This is going to wear off, right? You're going to be fine, right?"

Your only answer is a moan.

"No," Asmo mumbles, panic settling in when he realizes just how far gone you are. How lost you are to everything but lust. How mindless you've become in your quest for pleasure, to the point where you don't even _hear_ him. "No—no, no, no, no, no—! Not like this! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

He drops to his knees on top of you, and you just use his body to grind against, stimulating yourself on his thigh as Asmo clutches his head and a wail escapes his throat, the demon slowly realizing that you're _gone,_ that whatever person used to inhabit this body has been _tainted_ and turned into this mindless being that only knows how to lust, how to masturbate, how to cum.

"I didn't want you like this, I didn't want to do this to you—" He grabs your cheeks and searches your eyes for any indication of the real _you_ inside, any indication that he might not have truly fucked up the best thing in his life.

But the eyes that stare back at him are devoid of the brightness they once shined with, nothing but clouded and empty as they search for another method to bring you closer to climax. 


	9. Lucifer I-XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Should've gotten life right the first time." + Lucifer
> 
> TW: Drinking, implied alcoholism

There are three empty bottles of Demonus on Lucifer's desk, and yet he is not drunk.

Scratch that, he is a little drunk. Just enough for his usual frigid demeanor to fade, just enough for his words to begin to slur.

But it is not enough to make Lucifer forget the burden that weighs down on his shoulders.

It is never enough.

"What'ya want?" Lucifer snaps when he sees his door open, irritation seeping in. He doesn't bother hiding the bottles, doesn't bother hiding the tipsiness of his voice.

Only one person ever visits him this late at night. And they've seen Lucifer like this more than enough times.

"Hey, I—you're drinking again?" Mammon growls in irritation when he sees the bottles lined up on Lucifer's desk. "I told ya to quit that shit. Ya shouldn't need me to remind you."

"Shouldn't do a lot of things," Lucifer drawls, waving his hands aimlessly. "Like forget to tell you I love you. 'Cause I love you, Mammon, d'you know that?"

The second-born doesn't blush at his brother's confession, doesn't get flustered at the big revelation. Just purses his lips and frowns, because he knows that if Lucifer is tipsy enough to genuinely think Mammon doesn't already know how much his big brother loves him, then he's had way more than the three bottles on his desk.

The second-born would scold his brother if not for the fact that he knows this is a miserable day for Lucifer.

After all, today marks the ten thousandth year since they were banished from their home.

"Shouldn't've sold my soul to Diavolo," Lucifer continues to slur out, tossing a glare to a pile of paperwork. "Should've kept that piece of m'self. Or maybe made you do it. You've always been good with...responsibilities. And you're more fun. Diavolo might have liked you better."

Mammon remains silent.

"No, wait." Lucifer groans, reaching for a fourth bottle that had been hidden underneath his desk. "Then you'd feel like this. Wouldn't want you to feel like this, Mammonie."

The Avatar of Greed feels his heart soften the moment the familiar nickname spills from Lucifer's lips.

"Let's get ya to bed," He finally whispers, stepping around Lucifer's desk and nudging the firstborn out of his chair. "Ya gonna regret this tomorrow morning."

"Regret a lot of things," Lucifer continues, letting Mammon carry the brunt of his weight as he shoulders him off to bed. "Like the War. Shouldn't've pulled you all into my war. Shouldn't've cursed you all with me."

"Go to bed, Lucifer." Mammon doesn't bother helping his brother dress for bed, opting instead to leave him with a glass of water. "And stop thinking so damn much."

"Wanna stop thinking. It's why I was drinking."

"Ya shouldn't've been thinking so much in the first place."

"Should've done a lot of things. Should've gotten life right the first time. Should've kept you all safe. Shouldn't've killed Lilith, should've—"

Mammon cuts his brother off with a hand to the throat, blue eyes meeting red in a storm of regret and fire.

"Ya didn't kill Lilith," Mammon grunts, his teeth clenching. It's bad enough to see the single person he respects more than anyone else in such a miserable state—but for all the pathetic things he'll hear from Lucifer when the firstborn gets drunk, lies are one thing Mammon will not tolerate. "Ya didn't kill Lilith, and ya didn't ruin our lives with the War. So go to goddamn sleep and go back to being a snippy asshole in the morning."

Lucifer can only nod vaguely when presented with so many words so fast. Can only stare at his little brother with slightly confused eyes as the Avatar of Greed tucks him under the covers and turns the lights off, grumbling to himself the whole time as he leaves the room.

But when he's gone, Lucifer goes straight back to his hellhole of regret and misery. He shifts his position on the bed, reaching his arm lower to find the familiar bottle of Demonus he keeps stored underneath—and feels relief when his fingers find the neck of the bottle, feels relief when he finally takes another sip of the happiness juice.

For the few seconds after he takes his first swig, he can almost pretend that he believes Mammon's words, that he believes that his siblings might not hate him for what he's turned their lives into.

Only for a few a few seconds, though.

It's why Lucifer will always go back for a second sip.


	10. Simeon I-IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you ever just wanna... give in?" + Simeon
> 
> TW: Suicide, implied suicide, referenced suicide attempts, overt romanticization of suicide

Simeon's grip on your hand is gentle, light.

Almost as if he knows that holding you too tightly will cause you to break.

"How have you been feeling, little lamb?" His words are carefully chosen, meticulously planned out. Just like the rustle of clothing when he shifts closer to you on the bed, reaching for your hand and taking it in his own, stroking the bandages there.

"Good," You respond plainly, thumbing the blanket on top of your legs. "I got an A on my Devildom history paper. Lucifer said that he'd take me to Ristorante Six as a reward."

"Oh?" Simeon's lips curve upward, his smile nothing but soft and _warm_ as he stares at you. "That's sounds so lovely, little lamb."

You nod your head eagerly, a grin forming on your lips.

"So why did you try to escape before Lucifer could take you there?"

"I—I didn't—" A frown forms on your lips the moment you realize how the angel has trapped you, and you might even be able to muster up the strength to glare at him if he weren't looking at you so earnestly, as if he genuinely wants an answer. "I wasn't trying to _escape_..."

"Then tell me," Simeon murmurs, pulling his body ever closer to yours. "Please, little lamb. I want to understand. I want to help you."

There it is.

The one line you're sick of hearing.

"I don't—" You stop and clear your throat when you realize how _whiny_ you sound. "I don't need to be _helped_ , Simeon."

"No," The angel mumbles, trying to placate you as soon as he realizes that he's upset you. "No, you don't need any help. But I heard from Lucifer that you've been trying to get away more often. And I'm here because I don't want you to leave, and I don't want you to—to disappear."

"You can say the words, Simeon." You frown at the angel. "Suicide is a common thing in the human world. People try to kill themselves all the time."

"You didn't _just_ try to kill yourself," Simeon says, shaking his head. "Little lamb, Lucifer tells me that this is the third time he's walked in on you on the verge of...we just want you to be happy. And alive. And I'm here to find out what we can do to make _you_ also want to be happy and alive."

"I..."

You groan, leaning your body backward and letting your head fall against a pillow.

"I don't need helping, Simeon. I'm an adult, and this is my choice. Even you can't take away my free will."

"And I'm not trying to." Simeon shifts closer toward you. "I just want to give you the chance to be happy, little lamb. Life can be so beautiful when you give it a chance. And everyone around you is willing to work as hard as you need us to so that you can get that kind of life."

You tune Simeon's words out as he continues to rant, as he continues to drone on about how life is filled with potential if only you try to find it. Instead, you turn your attention to the cloak that's splayed across your bed, your eyes instantly going to the golden ornaments that decorate the bottom edge of it.

You raise your eyebrows when you take one in your hand, realizing that it's razor-sharp.

The hope Lucifer had dampened when he took all the pills, ropes, and sharp objects from your room fades, happiness setting in once more.

"Can I have your cloak?" You interrupt abruptly, eyebrows raised and eyes hopeful. "It would make me happy, Simeon, it really would."

The angel doesn't even consider it.

"No, little lamb." Simeon touches your cheek, stroking the skin there. "Lucifer already warned me that you've taken a liking to sharp things."

You glance down at the bandages on your wrists. They were white last night when Lucifer found you in the bathtub and pulled you out, stopping the bleeding with the medicinal gauze—but now they've turned blotchy and red, as if your blood is angry that it's being contained, angry that it hasn't been freed yet.

"What were you planning to do with my cloak, little lamb?" Simeon's expression is masked, but you can see the sorrow in his eyes.

"You already know, Simeon." You tug his cloak closer to you, tracing your fingers along the sharp edge. It's purely for decoration, the golden diamonds just another holy divide to set Simeon apart from all the demons at the academy, but you know that with just a _little_ more pressure from your thumb against the edge, you could draw blood.

It might be even sharper than the razor you used last night.

"Little lamb," The angel whispers, turning his head away from you. "I don't know what's going on inside your mind. Please tell me. Whatever is making you so miserable that you don't want to live anymore—I can help. And if I can't, Lucifer and his brothers can. And if they can't, I'm sure that Diavolo—"

"Simeon," You interrupt, placing a hand on his shoulder when his voice begins to rise, panic seeping into his tone. "Simeon, you can't help me."

"Why not?"

Two words, whispered so desperately. It almost makes you wonder how he has managed to live for so many millennia and be so naive; does he truly believe he can save everyone?

"Simeon, I just...life is hard. It's so much fun, and it's so lovely, but it's so hard. And if your Father up in heaven really wanted me to survive, he wouldn't have made every day so..."

"Hard?" Simeon offers, his shoulders sagging.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds—just a short moment, really, a deep sigh leaving his lips in the process—but that moment of distraction is all you need to _pull_ sharply and slip something underneath your blanket.

"Yeah," You say, a light smile gracing your lips. "You can't blame me for wanting to get away."

"But _why?"_

"Simeon," You whisper softly, hating how there's genuine sadness in his eyes. "Do you ever just wanna...give in? Relax? Let everything stop?"

The angel remains silent.

"It's like that for me, Simeon. But it's every day, every hour, every minute. And I know that this is the hand that I've been dealt and I should just suck it up and manage, but I _can't._ I don't want to anymore, I just want it to be over."

The man in front of you remains silent, completely unmoving. And the resignation in the way his shoulders droop lets you know that you've finally articulated your point, you've finally made him understand.

"I..." Simeon clears his throat, trying to force his usual graceful smile to his face. Now, though, it looks more like a grimace than anything else. "I'm going to speak with Lucifer for a bit, little lamb. I'll be back soon, I promise. Just..." He trails off, looking utterly drained. "Do you want water? Food? Is there anything I can get you? I don't know how long I'll be."

"It's fine," You say, shaking your head. "I'll see you later, Simeon."

"Alright. See you soon, little lamb."

He kisses you on the forehead, letting his lips linger a second longer than he usually does because it's the first time he's realizing how much you need this comfort, this hope, a potential reason to live.

Simeon slips out of your room with those very intentions, the angel terrified of the scope of misery that you'd expressed but equally determined to change your mind. To make you find the beauty in survival, the beauty in life.

He doesn't realize that one of the diamonds at the bottom of his cloak has been stolen until it's too late. 


	11. Belphegor I-X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Life is a goddamn ocean and I don't know how to swim." + Belphegor
> 
> TW: Suicide, lesson 16 spoilers

The first time Belphegor cracked your neck, he did it out of hatred. Out of his own selfish desires, his own blind fury.

It was a painful experience for you, the demon knows. He was anything but kind during your final moments, taunting you and laughing when he saw the crimson life drip from your body until you were gone entirely. He even took joy in mutilating your corpse afterward, finding sick pleasure in just how disfigured he could make you, how ugly you looked when he peeled back the mask of human skin and stared at the bloodied organs within.

Indeed, Belphegor doesn't quite understand how you ever managed to forgive him after that night.

He thinks about it often, when the two of you are alone together like this. The question is eternally on the tip of his tongue, just a breath away from being asked...but cowardice always prevails. Belphegor prefers sleep to confrontation, the main reason as to why he's spent more hours napping in your bed than actually interacting with you.

Though today, it seems that you also have something to say.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, taking a deep breath in almost as if to ask something...but as soon as you open your mouth, your posture freezes and you grow rigid. Your mouth closes, the hopeful glint in your eye fading with it.

The process repeats three or four times until Belphegor has had enough.

"What is it?" He finally snaps, his voice coming out a little more forceful than necessary.

It makes you flinch. He pretends not to notice.

"I..." You lift your eyes up at him, sweet eyes that have never looked at him with scorn, not even once after he killed you that first time. "It's nothing, Belphie."

He groans.

"If you have something to say, say it."

You frown at that, irritated at the nonchalance dripping from Belphegor's voice even as he criticizes you.

"It's not like I'm the only one who's thinking stuff they aren't saying." You shoot Belphegor a hard frown, and the demon begins to remember all the times he, too, braced himself to ask you questions, _the_ question—how you could ever forgive a monster like him for killing you—only to back down. He quickly realizes that he hasn't been as slick as he thought.

"It's not..." Belphegor rolls his head back. He's certain that you already know what's on his mind. "I don't want to stir up bad memories for you."

"Oh, Belphie." You sigh, leaning closer to him. You turn your gaze toward him, making sure he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "That isn't a bad memory for me."

"What?" The question has left his lips before he can stop himself, before he can convince himself that no, he doesn't want to know the answer. "How can you say that?"

"It's just..." You look away, sighing. Belphegor hates how this is the first proper conversation he's had with you on the subject. "It's just, it was nice, you know?"

"It was nice," He mumbles slowly. "To die."

"Not...when you phrase it like that, it sounds stupid. I can't explain it. But in that one moment right before it happened...my body just knew. And it let go of everything. It was peaceful, actually, it was really nice, really—"

"Stop," The demon blurts abruptly. He doesn't want to hear this. But you're not quite listening to him.

"You don't believe me," You mumble in disbelief, shoulder drooping. "Belphie, you don't _get_ it. You don't get how amazing it is to—to—"

"To be dead."

The demon's tone is flat, disbelieving. He doesn't expect you to nod your head.

"Yes." You lean back, swallowing thickly. "I didn't even realize it until it stopped. How _hard_ it is to be here. Like life is a goddamn ocean and I don't know how to swim." You take a breath, finally looking Belphegor in the eye. "I didn't even realize I was drowning till I stopped, Belphie. Until I could finally relax—until you—" You stop yourself before the words can leave your mouth, but Belphegor hears them all the same.

_Until you killed me._

"Belphie," You whisper, leaning forward so you can cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your eyes. 

"Don't you think it's cruel that you finally gave me peace and only to steal it away?"

The question hangs in the air like a chandelier about to fall. Belphegor knows the implication, knows the sheer catastrophe you're seeking to inflict with it. Like a single wrong move will cause it to collapse, breaking everything.

"Is this the thing you kept trying to say?" Belphegor finally asks, interrupting the silence. He recalls how long it's been since you've looked at him with hopefulness in your eyes, your mouth opening with only silence coming out, cowardice holding you back time and time again. "Is this what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes."

Belphegor swallows thickly.

"No."

"But—"

"I'm not killing you again. Go to sleep."

"But Belphie, it's not _fair_ that—"

"Go. To sleep."

The finality in Belphegor's voice doesn't leave room for argument. And when you refuse to bundle yourself up in a blanket and fall into slumber, the demon does it for you, sighing as he pulls your head into his lap, into the familiar position that the two of you always take.

It's hardly ten minutes before you've let go of your frustration to give in to the temptation of rest, ten minutes before your eyelids have fluttered shut and your chest is rising and falling to a languid rhythm.

Belphegor doesn't smile as he touches your cheek, caressing the skin there in a comforting gesture for what he's about to do.

He hears your earlier cry echo in his mind—your desperate frustration at having found true peace only to have it ripped away from you. And the demon knows he must fix what he has done, amend the wrongs he committed against you.

And the first time Belphegor cracked your neck, he did it out of hatred. Out of his own selfish desires, his own blind fury.

But the second time, his heart is empty. Devoid of everything but the sickening feeling in his gut when he hears you _crack._


	12. Diavolo I-XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was — it was supposed to end differently! It was — supposed to — no!" + Diavolo
> 
> TW: Death

It's a simple ritual.

A drop of your blood, a drop of his. The essence of human, the essence of demon. An offering of darkness, to carry your soul through the transition from mortal to immortal—and a casting circle, to bring the spell together.

It's such a simple ritual. Done thousands of times before, turning humans into demons time and time again so that they might embrace temptation. So common, so basic, so _simple._

So why hasn't your body risen from the ashes?

"Let go of me," Diavolo whispers when Lucifer and Barbatos hold him back. "I need to—I need to be by their side when they wake up, I can't—"

"You will die if you enter the casting circle before the ritual has succeeded."

"It _has_ succeeded, so—" Diavolo cuts himself off when he realizes the flaw in his wording. That your soul hasn't returned to you, that your body is still lying face-down against the floor.

That the ritual hasn't succeeded.

"Wait..." He mumbles, momentarily faltering as he peeks at your static form over Barbatos and Lucifer's shoulders. "No—it must be a mistake. It has to be—they're—they're _alive,_ and the ritual worked, and it's just taking a little longer than normal—"

Diavolo begins to push against the two men holding him back, trying to force them away as they shift into their demon forms to properly restrain him.

"My lord, you cannot risk your life—"

"Diavolo, do not try to enter—"

The prince manifests his demon form, waves of magic rolling off his body. But although he is the strongest man in his kingdom, Barbatos and Lucifer's combined strengths still exceed his, and they hold Diavolo back even as thrashes against the wall they're forming between him and the human he loves.

"No! Stop! The—the ritual _worked,_ it had to!"

Diavolo looks at what little he can see of your face, the candles around you blocking out most of it.

"You're alive!" He cries, now speaking directly to you, as if his voice can resurrect you from the dead. "Your soul isn't gone, the ritual worked—I know it! Just wake up, please! I know you're there—please!"

But the more Diavolo pleads for you to wake up, the deader you seem to appear, the light of the candles flickering against your skin to reveal that it's already beginning to take on a lifeless tint.

"No," The prince mumbles, now fighting against his two friends as much as he is leaning on them for support. "It—this can't be happening! It was—it was supposed to end differently! It was—supposed to—no!"

He begs for you to wake up, reckless tears beginning to stream down his face when he realizes that he might have to face the rest of his life without you, the very thing he was trying to avoid with this ritual.

"Please don't leave me!" He cries to you, desperately trying to get closer, to hold you in his arms. He fights against his friends, beating his fists against their chests, trying to get ever-closer to you. He thrashes and he fights and he all but flails in an attempt to sit by your side, to clutch your frighteningly _mortal_ body in his immortal hands because he knows you're not gone, you can't be gone, you wouldn't leave him alone in this world—resolutely denying his heart the truth his mind already knows.


	13. Mammon I-XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know what? I was wrong. You never really meant anything to me." + Mammon
> 
> TW: Cheating

He's the Avatar of Greed.

Of course he wanted Diavolo.

It was almost the foundation of their relationship—that Mammon was so recklessly filled with _desire_ every time he saw the one man in the world who would forever hold more than him, the one man in the world who could _truly_ give him everything.

And at first, the prince found it cute.

He enjoyed how easily he could make Mammon happy, how blissful his boyfriend looked every time the two of them took a trip to the royal treasury. It was endearing, really. It felt so refreshing for Diavolo to finally meet someone who was finally honest about their desires, someone who didn't dumbly bend to the prince's wishes but had a will of their own.

The two of them fit well together.

With abrupt access to the world and all its riches, Mammon's troublemaking habits came to a halt. And now that he was suddenly in the company of a boyfriend who took up all his attention, Diavolo found that he'd ceased his little games with Lucifer and the other brothers, instead focusing his efforts solely on the Avatar of Greed.

But it never could have lasted.

It's something Lucifer predicted the day he learned that his brother and his prince had gotten together—that this would all come crashing to the ground and that Diavolo should just cut his losses now.

The prince didn't listen, of course.

It's something he regrets as he stares numbly at the sight of his boyfriend kissing another demon, lips locked together so passionately that Diavolo might be jealous if not for the overwhelming sense of betrayal.

And abruptly, Diavolo feels stupid. He should have expected this from Mammon, should have foreseen that this would happen.

He's the Avatar of Greed.

Of course he wanted more than just Diavolo.

The prince can't even bring himself to croak any words out. When he sees Mammon push the demon backward against the nearest wall, clothes beginning to fall, Diavolo flees to the safe confines of his room, where...

_Oh._

Where Mammon's presence still lingers.

Diavolo stares at his room, at the little embellishments his boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend, he should prepare to start calling Mammon that now—has made in the short time they've been together. So many trinkets, so many curios. All of them with a special memory attached, something which had made Mammon whisper into his ear: _we can't leave this behind, ya know? It's got, uh, emotional significance t'us. It's important. It's ours._

All those memories once made Diavolo smile. Now tainted by the sight of Mammon in another demon's arms, they only serve to darken the prince's mood.

They make him angry, now.

It's hardly long before sadness has faded entirely. Before Diavolo has grown furious, such that when Mammon finally returns to their room, the prince's aura is thick with rage, and the Avatar of Greed knows he's been caught.

The fight, in itself, is short.

It's like their relationship, happening all at once without a second thought.

Diavolo gives Mammon no chance to speak, no chance to defend himself. Their relationship changes instantly from lover and lover to the ruler and ruled, the prince leaving no room for ambiguity when he declares that their relationship is over.

It is truly jarring how fast it all happens, how _instantly_ Diavolo seems to move on.

"You—you can't do this," Mammon whispers, lip trembling when he realizes that he's compromised the only thing in the world that could truly let him forget about his greed. "You—you said you loved me, Diavolo. If—if that was true, you'll let me make it up to you—let me prove that—"

"You know what?" The prince stares at Mammon with empty eyes, aching to hurt the demon as much as he hurt Diavolo. "I was wrong. You never really meant anything to me."

It is a lie.

A despicable, evil lie because Diavolo knows that the terrifying ache in his heart means that it is breaking, that Mammon has broken it, that he cares far too much about the Avatar of Greed for his own good.

But to Mammon, who has meant too little to too many for too long, who has meant next to nothing to so many he cared about until Diavolo came along and showed him what he thought was true love, the words are devastating. A crooked chant that will echo through his mind for the rest of his life, an eternal curse that will taint every inch of happiness the Avatar of Greed might ever find.


	14. Mammon I-XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do I have to be strong all the time?" + Mammon
> 
> TW: Referenced violence

"You promised you wouldn't leave me."

The words leave his lips in a whisper, falling to your ears with infinite grace.

"I'm not...I don't have a choice, Mammon." Your eyes dart downward, taking a closer look at the wound.

It's difficult to properly look at it from this position. The demon knifed you in your lower abdomen, dragging the dagger through the muscles there, and all you can really see without straining your body is the thick red that's seeped into your clothing around the spot.

And there's a lot of red.

It's been a long time, after all.

The dizziness has already begun to set in, the temptation of unconsciousness growing almost too heavy to resist. And it's so tempting, the peaceful siren of death—but you know that you have to resist a little longer. Because you're not going to wake up from this sleep, and you still have things to say to Mammon.

"I want you to know you can move on," You whisper, glancing up at the demon you love. "I want you to, actually. Find someone who makes you as happy as I do. Did. Fall in love with someone new."

"I don't want to," The demon babbles, pulling you closer. "I don't want anyone but you, so please don't go, please, please just _stay—"_ He cuts himself off with a choked sob, and you wish you had the strength to pull him into a hug. "I won't be able to live without you. I won't, I—I _can't—"_

"You can," You mumble peacefully, kissing Mammon's forehead when he buries his head in your neck. "You can and you will. Because you're The Great Mammon. You're stronger than anyone I know, too strong for my death to hold you down."

"Why do I have to be strong all the time?" He whispers miserably, pulling away to look at you through his tears. "Why can't I be weak—why can't I—"

"Shhh," You whisper, silencing him. The darkness that's trying to pull your eyelids down is growing too heavy to resist, too heavy to hold back. "You can do it, Mammon. I..." The words seem to catch in your throat, as if your body lacks enough energy to put them out. "I believe in you."

You toss the man a smile, finding solace in the fact that, if anything, he'll have knowledge of that fact. That when he doesn't believe in himself, when his brothers don't believe in him, when the world doesn't believe in him the way it felt when you first met him—you will.

And with that knowledge pulling your lips beautifully upward, you melt into Mammon's arms for the last time.

You don't hear Mammon's sobs of despair when you finally close your eyes.


	15. Leviathan I-XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And sometimes we just gotta give up." + Leviathan

There's something beautiful about love.

There are probably people who will advocate that there's beauty in hatred, too.

Such is the nature of all strong emotions. Backed by passion, even the most villainous of evils can be called mesmerizing for their strength, for their fortitude, for the overwhelming energy and spirit that powers them.

Yet the world seems to be in agreement that there's nothing beautiful about apathy.

Truly a shame, because there's no other way to describe what your relationship with Levi has been reduced to.

"I want to break up."

The words are said so plainly,. As if you had announced that you were about to go to the bathroom or were about to fetch some snacks. Utterly mundane, no emotions left to power it.

All you get from Levi is a thoughtful expression and then a disinterested "sure" before he goes back to the game on his phone.

It's a sad way to end a relationship of four years. Pathetic, even. There's no closure, no catharsis. Not even a bodily reaction—for the two of you are still mushed against each other on the couch, shoulders pressed together for the physical convenience of the motion, if nothing else.

You think you should feel irked at the fact, at the raw disinterest radiating off your boyfriend ( _ex-boyfriend,_ you correct yourself; that change will take some getting used to), but how can you criticize him for not caring when it's so obvious that you feel the same way?

The thought troubles you, turning your lips downward.

"When did we become like this?" You ask quietly, absentmindedly pinching the material of your pants.

It's interesting—you don't even feel any of the post-breakup awkwardness around Levi, your heart truly having detached itself so long ago. All that remains is a clinical urge to analyze where things went wrong.

"Your birthday, I think." Levi doesn't glance up from the console in his hands. "You hosted a party with your other friends and I didn't get you a present."

A smile forms on your face, remembering that day. It was such a happy time: a testament to the fact that almost all of your recent happiest memories are without Levi.

"That was a fun day," You mumble, remembering the antics of your friends.

"For me, too." Levi glances away from his console, flashing you an amused look. He gives you rare smile, one that used to send butterflies to your stomach. "Satan and Belphie put a bunch of ducks inside Lucifer's desk and he had to take care of them for the whole day until he could give them away."

"Oh?" You arch an eyebrow, laughing at the very thought. "Wish I could have seen that."

"I have pictures!" Levi exclaims, shifting a little closer to you.

There's a moment where the two of you are huddled together over his phone, light laughter spilling from your lips every time he swipes and reveals another picture of a very-annoyed Lucifer, with eight ducklings in his arms and four more scrambling away from him. It abruptly feels normal, peaceful. Like the boy you loved and the emotions you felt for him have come back to you, and you adore him once more.

The very feeling gives you second thoughts.

"Do you think we should stay together?" You ask carefully, trying to gauge Levi's reaction.

He looks at you for a second, considering it. He glances at the phone, at the picture of Lucifer's mortified expression as a duckling poops in his hands which the two of you were giggling at so wholesomely together not seconds prior.

But then he sighs.

"There's no point." He locks his phone with his index finger, dropping it into his lap. "We've...we gave it our best shot. Four years is a long time. And sometimes...sometimes we just gotta give up."

The fact that you aren't saddened by his response just proves that he's right.

"We were good together," You mumble absentmindedly, remembering all the dates the two of you had gone on and returned smiling and laughing, barely able to resist kissing each other. All the times he had gotten jealous over the simplest things, all the gentle kisses you would give him to make up for it. All the whispered nothings and silent cuddles through the seasons, because you spent four years together and watched the world turn four times.

"Were," Levi whispers, staring numbly at the floor, doubtlessly lost in the same memories you are.

You glance downward at your phone, staring at the image that's still your lockscreen after all these years. In truth, you never changed it out of laziness; because you didn't want to have to explain why if asked and you didn't want to find another picture—but now, as you think about it, the picture feels important to you for the first time in a long while.

The image itself is a simple thing. You and Levi, fingers intertwined with matching rings.

But you remember how it meant so much to you.

Levi had been so embarrassed to wear the rings in public, flustered when his brothers teased him at the sight of the amethyst ornament on his finger. But on the day he finally agreed to wear them outside, you wasted no time in taking a picture to commemorate the occasion, setting it as your lockscreen without a second thought.

Neither of you wear your rings any longer.

It still brings a smile to your face to remember how blissfully happy you were on that day. So hopeful, so innocent. Utterly ignorant to what the future would hold, to where your relationship would go.

It had been such a happy time, the day the picture was taken.

A happy time.

But it was a different time.

You'll change your lockscreen tonight.


	16. Barbatos I-XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know how much longer I can endure this." + Barbatos + NSFW

It's because it takes seven minutes for Barbatos to use his powers.

Seven minutes to alter reality. Seven minutes to change timelines. Seven minutes before Barbatos can become God and reshape the world entirely.

Barbatos wishes that his powers took longer to activate, though. An hour, perhaps—or maybe seven, to honor the custom. It's the only chance he has at finding some repose from the misery he lives in, the only chance he has at getting more than six minutes of isolation every other day before he's back to being by Diavolo's side so the crown can keep his powers in check.

It's one of the only chances Barbatos has at finding some piece of ignorant happiness.

There are other alternatives, too. If Diavolo were quicker to finish, poorer in bed, worse at sex, then Barbatos's life might be easier. And if only the butler was allowed to leave Diavolo's side when the prince pulls you into his his arms and has you sit on his cock, then Barbatos might be able to ignore the feelings he has for you, quell that sick sensation in his stomach whenever he sees you smile like a fool in love as he pulls you in for a kiss.

But Diavolo likes to take his time in bed. And the crown cannot leave a man as powerful as Barbatos alone for seven minutes.

So on nights like these, the butler must stay by his prince's side.

And he must watch as Diavolo fucks your brains out.

"D-Diavo— _oh_ —lo—" You arch your spine as your lover hits _that_ spot in you, instinctively lifting your hips higher into the air and pressing your body closer to the sheets as you grab at them for support. Your speech capabilities dissolved hours ago, roughly around the same time when Diavolo pulled you to climax for the third time on his mouth, and now it's all you can do to gasp the prince's name out in garbled pieces. But while the sound makes Diavolo grin, all Barbatos can do is grimace, trying his hardest not to think about how much it hurts to see you find such happiness in the arms of another man.

"Come on, darling, you can do it." Diavolo grins as you gasp out another set of garbled moans when he lifts your leg and begins fucking you deeper, the slick sounds of sex hovering right beneath his own grunts of pleasure.

Barbatos swallows. He can control his bodily urges, can prevent the rush of blood that wants to go straight to his cock every time he sees your blissed-out expression. But he cannot tame the monster of his mind which goes wild with imagination every time your naked body is so close to his.

And his brain is already imagining it.

Barbatos watches how your head rolls forward into the mattress, your hips as they begin to twitch and jerk. His eyes never leave your body when one of your hands clutch the sheets for support, fingernails digging in so deeply he fears that the cotton will tear, your other hand reaching between your legs as you begin to touch yourself, your fingers making little motions that Barbatos memorized eons ago in case he should ever have the chance to please you.

He swallows, his pupils dilating when your shoulders jerk upward, when your body begins to spasm uncontrollably with the telltale promise of climax. And just seconds later, your eyes scrunch tight and your mouth opens wide as you moan uncontrollably, and Barbatos can already visualize the beautiful the sound of _his_ name rolling off your lips, with your voice all breathless and lustful—

_"D-Diavolo—"_

Barbatos's heart stings with betrayal when he hears that name fall from your lips.

The fast beating of his heart abruptly slows, coming to a halt as soon as his fantasy ends, shattering and breaking into pieces when reality comes crashing down.

"Just a little longer, darling, just a little longer," Diavolo whispers into your ear, holding your quivering body close underneath him as his thrusts accelerate, as tears begin to spill down your cheeks from the sheer overstimulation of it.

Barbatos does not look at the Diavolo when he cums inside you.

No, the butler is devastatingly focused on your expression, on your eyes which manage to remain so adoring and filled with _love_ even with that dumbfucked look on your face. Your expression is already carved into Barbatos's mind, tattooed in with poisonous ink from the hundreds of times he's seen you in this state before, but it hurts him all the same.

And it hurts so fucking much.

Barbatos remains standing the entire time as Diavolo coaxes himself out of you and begins taking care of you, the prince's big hands settling over your body and cleaning you up. The worst part is that the butler knows he can do it better, knows that he wouldn't need to mumble out Diavolo's hushed apology when you whimper under the prince's rough touch, wouldn't need to kiss it better for being too careless.

But Diavolo is the one with your heart, isn't he?

And so Diavolo is the one who will get to hold you in his arms until you're asleep, until your eyes have closed and your breathing has returned its familiar, steady rhythm.

"I don't know how much longer I can endure this."

The words aren't whispered but they're too small to hear, buried underneath the gentle sounds of sheets rustling as Diavolo pulls the comforter up around you. And for a single moment, Barbatos wishes that he was heard. That Diavolo would look up, arch an eyebrow, extend just an ounce of the kindness he showcases to the rest of the world to Barbatos and learn the truth of why his butler is so miserable.

But then the urge fades, leaving nothing more than a hollow feeling where a false hope once stood.

For the umpteenth time today, Barbatos aches to change rules a little, bend the timeline. He wouldn't even change reality too much; he would merely put himself on the playing field. Choose a universe where he could have made it clear to you that _he_ was a suitor as well, that the prince of the Devildom wasn't the only one seeking your affection. Find a timeline where he at least has the right to confess, a place where he has the barest chance of holding your attention the way he yearns for.

Seven minutes is all he needs to do it.

But he'll never get more than six.


	17. Satan I-XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you ever felt suffocated?" + Satan

Satan doesn't tell Lucifer that he now has a grandchild.

Satan doesn't tell anyone, actually. He keeps your existence private, tolerating everything from the surge of pain upon your forceful birth to the ache in his heart as he bounds you in chains and hides you underneath the House of Lamentation in isolation—not daring to breathe a word of it to anyone.

He pretends that he does it to protect himself.

But anyone with half a braincell will know the truth.

Satan is doing it to protect _you._

After all, it's the very same thing Lucifer did with him all those centuries ago: hiding Satan until he was ready for the world, holding him in isolation until he could be trusted _not_ to destroy everything in his path.

There might be a few differences in your situation, the blonde muses. He was an amalgamation of Lucifer's wrath. You are the manifestation of Satan's hatred. He caused destruction the moment he was born, destroying Lucifer's office in his first fit of rage. You appear to be weaker, unable to do anything other than growl as Satan chains you up.

But the Avatar of Wrath suspects that you will be stronger than him, despite your physical differences.

He can already sense the shrewd mind that lurks behind every monstrous snarl you throw him as you fight the chains, trying to escape like a dog to bite at your cruel owner, jailer, father. Each jerk is precise, pulling against metal at the same angle over and over again, desperately trying to break it in the most efficient way possible.

"I don't want to do this to you," Satan whispers, crouching in front of you. He knows it is useless, knows that he ignored Lucifer when the firstborn echoed these same words to him; but Satan says them all the same, desperately hoping that maybe, just _maybe_ you'll understand.

It's stupid.

Satan knows that you'll hate him even more than he hates Lucifer. It's in your nature to resent everyone who looks at you, everyone who surrounds you, even the one who birthed you.

But love makes people do stupid things.

"I'll come down every day to check on you," Satan whispers.

You spit in his face, baring your teeth.

"You'll have food, water, and shelter. I'll bring you books once you've proven that you can be unchained. I'll give you everything you need to learn about the outside world. I'll teach you everything you need to know for me to bring you out in public."

His words are now an imitation of what Lucifer once said to him, perfect replicas. He knows you can understand him, knows that the vicious snarl on your face is because resentment and hatred are _all_ you know, that he will have to manually teach you everything else. "I know you hate me today, but soon you will learn more than your sin. You'll experience new things. You'll learn to love and smile and be happy."

Satan pauses in front of you, waiting for you to acknowledge his words, hoping that your expression will change.

It doesn't, of course.

The blonde sighs and tries not to let your expression get him down, standing to his feet and beginning to turn around. He'll visit you again tomorrow, and hopefully, you'll be more open-minded then.

But when your growling abruptly turns into a whimper, the demon hesitates.

Satan glances behind his shoulder, at the sad droop of your neck, feeling his heart shatter.

"You're scared to be alone," He whispers, thinking that it's the only possible explanation for your change in demeanor. In a heartbeat, he's dropped himself to his knees in front of you, wrapping you in an embrace with the love only a new father can muster. "Shh, don't be afraid. Even if I leave the room, I will always be with you."

He holds your head carefully against his chest, handling you like you're made out of glass.

Another whine escapes your throat, and you pull against the iron collar around your neck meekly.

"Does it hurt?" Satan whispers, lifting your head and trying to check if it's digging into your skin. "Is it too tight? Is it suffocating you? _Have_ you ever felt suffocated? Do you even know what that's like?"

The blonde bites his lip, quietly browsing his mental library of spells to figure out how he could ease any of your discomfort.

Another miserable whimper spills from your throat.

Satan doesn't waste even a second in embracing you again, pulling your body ever closer to his as he kisses your temple and lets you rest your head on his neck, rubbing circles in your back that he hopes are comforting.

"Shh," He whispers, beginning to rock you back and forth. "It'll be okay. It'll all be okay. I'll make sure nothing hurts you—I'll protect you from everything."

You bury your head in his neck, finding comfort in the warmth of Satan's skin. Your breathing finally grows steady, a familiar pattern of hot and cold falling on the blonde's shoulder. You relax in his arms and for a single moment, Satan truly believes that you're going to rest your head on his nape.

_Stupid,_ Satan realizes the moment he feels the hatred you were just _barely_ keeping at bay come rushing back. _I'm stupid._

You bite his neck.

Hard.

There's a chunk of flesh missing, spat onto the floor, and the blonde just barely avoids the second snap of your teeth when you try to dig deeper to take out not just his skin and blood but the bone that connects his head and his body, a calculated attempt to _kill_ him.

Satan pulls away from you, clutching at the wound on his shoulder that's already begun to bleed, staring at your malicious grin, the first proper _smile_ he's seen on your face since you were born.

You hate him.

Satan almost laughs; because you just pulled the exact same stunt that _he_ pulled when Lucifer first locked him up and Satan still fell for it, still bent to your will.

Almost laughs, but not quite—because there's nothing funny about this.

Because you're his child and you hate him.

Because you're his child and you want him dead.

Because you're his child and you're a _monster_ , a terrifying beast that Satan fears will forever need to be locked up in isolation.


	18. Satan I-XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't deserve someone like me." + Satan + NSFW

If the Devildom had a sun, its light would shine from Satan's eyes.

A strange thought, for suns are supposed to be orange and they're certainly _not_ meant to be contained in the eyes of wrathful blondes, but as you stare at Satan above you, the greens of his eyes just barely visible from how harshly he's glaring but oh so _fiery_ at the same time—you can't help but think it's true.

You blame it on your dumb-fucked state.

"Sha...ta..." You can just _barely_ get out the basic syllables to his name, letting your fingers dig into his back as he punctures your body with another thrust. Your toes curl next to his ear, your legs propped on Satan's shoulders with his hands spreading your thighs apart so he can see you and _all_ of you, his green eyes taking note of how you're falling apart with the promise of climax just seconds away.

_"Oh—"_ You gasp, the breath stolen away from you when Satan changes the angle and begins fucking you deeper.

You don't need to tell him how close you are, not when he can feel the way you're quivering and clenching around his cock. Your hips begin to jerk, involuntarily spasming against Satan's hands as he holds you down, and you hit your orgasm with an incoherent screech, your own ears deaf to even the sounds of your own pleasure with Satan making such _beautiful_ sounds above you.

"Deep breaths," He whispers, giving you momentary reprieve when you come down from your high, letting you catch your breath. Letting you gather yourself so he can pick up anew, letting you get _just_ composed enough so he can break you once more, take you from semicoherent to dumbfucked all over again.

He nibbles at your skin, waiting for you.

And when he touches you so gently, such a sharp contrast from how rough he was just seconds ago, who can blame you for forgetting that this is just about sex?

"Sa...Satan," You whisper, your voice a breathless mumble as soon as you can speak proper words. "I love you."

The blonde stiffens.

You feel it in his abs, in the abrupt flex as he jerks his body back, staring at you with an appalled expression.

"You..." He stares at you with pure _disgust_ , as if you'd just spat in his face. You half expect his cock to soften inside you with how repulsed he looks, and instantly, you know you've said the wrong thing.

"You don't _get_ to love me," He spits, beginning to move. His grip on your thighs tenses and he jerks his hips against yours, pulling a garbled moan from your lips. "You're a human," He says, thrusting a second time. "A stupid. Useless. _Human."_ Each word is separated with another thrust, the blonde not bothering to beat around the bush and going directly to your sweet spot to ruin you, prevent you from being able to talk back.

"You're _weak,"_ He hisses, beginning to find a rhythm. "Can't even do magic right. Need my fucking _help."_

He pulls your legs higher against his shoulders, forcefully raising your hips as he continues to rail you, not caring about the force at which your head is slamming into the headboard.

"All you are to me is sex," He sneers, slapping your ass and _hard._ If you could think about anything other than the cruel words spilling from Satan's mouth and the overwhelming sensation of how his cock is _abusing_ that special spot inside you, you'd be fearing the bruise you'll have tomorrow. "And you're not even good at _that."_

His thrusts grow quicker, gaining force. You try to stammer out an apology, a desperate _I didn't mean it,_ but all that comes out of your mouth is another moan, loud and whiny.

"Did you think I'd reciprocate?" Satan mumbles, his voice beginning to grow louder. "That I'd hug you and say I love you back?"

He leans forward, his breath hot on your ear. Your body tenses underneath him, squeezing around his length, and you expect him to bite or lick or do _something_ , but all he does is whisper:

"You don't fucking deserve someone like me."

He cums in you and _hard—_ for a single moment, you swear you can feel all of him. Not just his body, the toned muscles that are pressed against your skin, but truly _Satan._ The unmistakeable wrath that shapes his very being, the loathsome fury that powers his every motion. The terrifying intelligence he's turned into a weapon, the twisted sadism that hits you like a whip; and most poignant of them all, you can feel the overwhelming disdain he harbors for you, cracking your heart all over again as he stares at your blissed-out expression with scorn. 


	19. Asmodeus I-XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Close your eyes — I don't want you to see me like this." + Asmodeus
> 
> Reader discretion advised

Asmodeus doesn't realize that he's been summoned.

He remains curled in a ball, chest heaving in and out as he chokes on his own sobs, desperately trying to shut the entire world out from around him. He doesn't sense the shift in the air, doesn't realize the change in temperature of the floor he's sitting on. Doesn't even notice the presence of someone right behind him, bearing witness to the one thing he never wanted anyone else to see.

"Asmo?"

The demon freezes when he hears his name, fear halting his whimpers.

He looks up in alarm, eyes wide and tears still streaming freshly down his cheeks, only now seeming to realize that he's in a summoning circle, that he's in someone else's room.

"Solomon," The demon whispers, trying not to let his voice crack. A fake smile is plastered onto his face instantly. "Solomon, why'd you call me so late? You know I'd be more than happy to—to—"

He freezes with the sexual innuendo on the tip of his tongue.

"To..."

It starts with a quiver of his lip, so small that Solomon would miss it if he weren't paying such close attention. Then it comes in the form of a nervous gulp, Asmo's throat bobbing as the demon doubtlessly tries to swallow his feelings. And then the tidal wave of emotion comes rushing forth at full force when Asmo tries to open his mouth to say something and only a sob comes out, and then the demon isn't even trying to hide his hysterical wails as he balls up and shuts out the world a second time.

"Fuck," Solomon grunts, quickly realizing what's happening. He's only seen Asmo like this a handful of times in all the years they've been acquaintanced, but he knows what his friend needs. "Asmo, Asmo, breathe with me. In. Out. Come on, focus—"

"Go away!" Asmo shrieks, pushing the sorcerer away and trying to curl closer into himself, into his own corner of the world where he can sob in silence with no one to bother him.

Solomon mutters curses under his breath the whole time as pulls Asmo forward and grabs his shoulders.

"Asmo," Solomon says, using magic to hold the demon's gaze. "Asmo, you need to _breathe."_

Asmo stares at Solomon with a panic-filled face, tears still flowing from his eyes. "Stop," He mumbles. "Please don't look at me, Solomon, please, _please_ don't—please just close your eyes—I don't want you to see me like this, so please—"

"Asmo." Solomon wraps his hands around the demon's cheek, forcing Asmo to look him in the eyes. "Asmo, I've seen you like this before. Let me help you, I know how—"

"Let me go," He whispers.

"Asmo, I—"

"Let me go!" Asmo shrieks, pushing Solomon back. "You can't keep me here! I'm not yours to keep! I'm not your toy to use! Let me _go!"_

Within seconds, the demon has grown hysterical once more, clawing at Solomon's robes to force the sorcerer into action.

"Asmo, if I let you go, then you'll just—"

"Let me _go!"_ Another indignant shriek, but Solomon can sense the desperation behind it, how Asmo is growing increasingly terrified over having no control over his body as Solomon uses the pact to keep him in the human world, the demon increasingly terrified of having someone _else_ in control of _him._

Solomon's eyes widen, instantly beginning to realize why the demon is so panicked.

"Who did this to you?" He whispers, pushing away his anger to comfort his friend. "I'll ruin them. I'll do whatever they did to you a hundred times over. I can make this better."

"No. Stop. Let me go," Asmo whimpers, clasping his hands over his ears. He shuts his eyes and Solomon curses, realizing that he's only making things worse by keeping Asmo here when it's clear that the demon needs to feel some sense of control over his own body right now.

"Asmo, I'm going to revoke the command which is forcing you to stay here but you have to promise me you won't leave," Solomon whispers, trying to steady his friend.

Asmo doesn't hear him.

The demon is busy rocking himself back and forth with his hands over his ears, mumbling "let me go" over and over again.

Solomon lets the magic holding Asmo here dissipate, a spark of relief entering his heart when he sees how Asmo's shoulders relax when the enchantment isn't holding him here any longer, when the full extent of his free will has been returned, when he feels the familiar sense of control seep through his bones and the terror has stopped screaming in his ears.

The Avatar of Lust looks up at Solomon with different eyes, no longer terrified and distrusting but with a smidgen of _hope,_ as if the load weighing against his heart has lightened.

"Asmo," Solomon whispers. "Let me help you."

But before the mage can even try, Asmo is gone.


	20. Belphegor I-XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's this thing about solitude. It gets to you. It eats you alive." + Belphegor 
> 
> Lesson 16 Spoilers

Belphegor needs you.

Not just because you're his only ticket out of this attic, not just because you're the only chance he has of getting to see his brothers before the end of this school year.

But because you're the only thing keeping him sane.

And lately, you've been pulling away.

"Why didn't you come by last week?"

The question sounds accusatory as it leaves Belphegor's lips, but he doesn't add anything to it, merely waiting for your response.

"I-it was finals week. I was focused on studying."

Belphegor scowls at that, irked that you left him alone for so long. But he doesn't bother arguing with you. He needs you to come back, after all. Needs you to like him. Needs you to stay up here with him, needs to make sure he doesn't lose his only link to the outside world.

"Why aren't you sitting down yet?" He finally snaps after the silence has grown too thick. He grimaces when he hears that same tone of accusation underlining his words.

"I—how do you know I'm not sitting down?"

Belphegor glances away from the door as if to avoid your eyes. He clicks his tongue, irritated at the situation he's gotten himself into. How can he tell you that he listens to every little sound you make to track your movements? How can he say that he only allows himself to relax when he hears the familiar _thump_ of your bottom hitting the ground as you lean against the door and begin to speak with him? How can he possibly express that he uses his honed demonic senses to monitor every aspect of you that he can, including the quiet little _gulp_ your throat gives as you swallow nervously.

"Belphie," You repeat, fear beginning to seep into your voice. "Belphie, how did you know I wasn't sitting down?"

The Avatar of Sloth curses under his breath. Humans have always been so quick to scare, so easily intimidated. He can hear the quickening of your heart, the way you're beginning to take deeper breaths.

He needs to deescalate the situation.

"I guessed."

That's safe, isn't it?

"You're lying."

Belphie stops pacing in circles when he realizes that you're backing away toward the staircase.

"Wait—" He stumbles forward to the door, pushing his face against the small opening where you can see his eyes. You're not gone yet, you're still here—and you're looking straight at him.

He just needs to convince you that he's not a threat.

"I—I have a good sense for these things. That's all. Please, I just wanted to talk with you. I didn't want to be alone anymore."

_I didn't want to be alone anymore._

At least there was some truth in his words.

"Just—just don't leave—"

"I'm going to go now," You whisper, stepping further away from the door. "I—I'll try to return tomorrow. If I have time. Please don't wait for me, I—"

"No," He gasps, pressing against the door. "No, please, _please_ don't leave me. Please, if you disappear, I won't be able to survive. I can't—I can't take being locked up here anymore. It's—it's too much—"

"I'll try to return—" You begin, an empty promise rolling off your tongue.

"You _won't._ You need to _stay._ You can't leave me—you can't leave me alone again _._ The solitude is too much—too much for anyone. It—it gets to you. It eats you alive. It twists your mind. Please, you can't blame me for wanting you to—wait!"

Belphegor bangs against the door when he sees you draw closer to the steps, desperately trying to stop you. He tosses his pride to the side, forgetting his hatred for humanity, and drops to his knees as if praying to you.

"No—please, _please_ don't leave me alone again—"

You take one look at Belphegor, at his crazed expression and his desperate clanging against the door.

"Please just _stay_ —I don't know what will happen to me if you leave ma again—"

You sprint down the stairs, never looking back.


	21. Satan I-XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It... I ... it wasn't supposed — to be this way —" + Satan
> 
> TW: Death

All his life, Satan has only known rage.

Today, he learns the meaning of fear.

"Lucifer," He whispers, holding the demon's upper body in his lap. "Lucifer—Lucifer, stay with me. Please, Luci, please—"

"Shhh." The Avatar of Pride opens his eyes just barely, tiredly gazing up at Satan. "It's... it'll be okay."

Satan's breathing grows unsteady. It won't be okay, he knows that. If things were going to be okay, Lucifer would be pushing Satan away and would already be mumbling about the paperwork he needs to finish for Diavolo; if things were going to be okay, Satan wouldn't have tears in his eyes and his lip wouldn't be trembling; if things were going to be okay, Lucifer wouldn't be lying in Satan's arms, weakly gripping the fabric of the blonde's jacket as he bleeds out.

"You'll be fine," Satan blurts, his voice wavering. "You'll be fine, so don't—" He chokes on his own words. "Don't be scared."

Lucifer smiles softly, reaching a hand up to brush Satan's tears away.

"I'm not afraid."

Satan instinctively leans into Lucifer's touch, trying to savor it while he can.

"But I think you are, Satan."

"I'm not," The blonde responds instantly, still trying to be strong. Trying to pretend everything is okay. "B-because you're fine. You're not hurt. You'll be okay. You'll suffer through it like you always do—you won't die—you won't—"

"Satan."

The blonde looks at Lucifer, hanging on to his every word.

"Satan, I'm going to die."

The blonde can't hold back an open sob at that, suddenly struggling to breathe as the tears in his eyes grow too large for him to hold back, and then he's openly sobbing into Lucifer's chest, desperately trying to hold on to the demon for support.

"It...I...it wasn't supposed to—to be this way—" Satan can't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. "You're supposed to go peacefully. Wh-when you're old. A-and ugly. After I've gotten to pull all my p-pranks on you."

"I know they all would have been wonderful."

"No," Satan whispers. " _Stop._ Stop acting like you're not going to make it—stop pretending that—that—"

Lucifer coughs roughly, his chest jerking as he coughs up a spurt of blood.

The firstborn demon lets out a weak-sounding groan, resting his head against Satan's arm.

Lucifer reaches up and wipes away the few drops of blood that had landed on Satan's cheek, rubbing the spot with his thumb until the blonde's skin is clean.

"I can't..." Lucifer chokes up more blood when he tries to speak.

_I can't hold on any longer._

"No—no wait," Satan mumbles, clutching Lucifer's hand. "Lucifer, Lucifer wait—please—please, I never got to—I never got to hug you properly. I never got to call you Father. I—"

Satan chokes when he realizes this next truth.

"I never got to tell you I love you—I—"

_You just did,_ Lucifer seems to interrupt, squeezing Satan's hand. The action silences the blonde instantly, and abruptly all Satan can think about is how loving his father looks with that gentle smile on his face after hearing those three words from Satan. The happiness in Lucifer's expression is unrestrained, the light in his eyes so blindingly bright that Satan swears that this is it, this is how radiant he must have been when he was the Morningstar and he lit up the heavens.

"Please don't go," Satan whimpers, holding Lucifer closer. The blonde throws all his pride away, _begging_ for his father to hold on for just a little longer. "Please, please, I can't—you can't leave me. You can't make me live without you."

But when Lucifer squeezes Satan's hand a second time, it a quiet goodbye, accompanied by the softest smile on his face—a truly _happy_ smile, at the opportunity of finally having been able to bond with his son—and the warmth fades from the demon's skin.

"No," Satan whispers, shaking Lucifer's body. "Lucifer—Lucifer, come back. Luci, Luci, I _need you, I—"_

Satan feels like he can't breathe when he sees that Lucifer's adoring expression is no longer changing, that his eyes are blank and empty.

"No," Satan whispers, shaking his father. "No, no, no, this isn't—this can't be happening—" but the vibrant rubies have faded to a dull red, and the Morningstar is gone, Lucifer's light quelled for the first and last time.

It is the first time Satan will learn what true darkness feels like.


	22. Leviathan I-XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry I'm like this." + Leviathan

It's just so exhausting.

"And it starts off with the Lord of Lechery abandoning his arranged marriage so he can marry Henry, literally triggering _everything_ else in the story! The Lord of Corruption has to chase after him with the Lord of Shadow, though they end up arguing a lot on their journey, and while all this is going on, the Lord of Masks has already begun to gain prominence in the Darklands! It's so crazy—it somehow has nothing to do with the original but is still so closely related to it, and..."

You roll over in your bed, burrowing your head under your pillow and trying your hardest to tune out Levi's voice.

It's not that you dislike hearing him rant. You actually really, really enjoy it. He's so passionate about everything that he manages to make even the most boring of topics interesting, never failing to grab your attention.

But that's also the issue.

He never fails to hold your attention.

Something which is more a curse than it is a blessing, especially on nights like these where you just want to _sleep._

"Oh, oh, and halfway through, Henry disappears from the story entirely, and you completely forget that he's still alive, but he returns right in the nick of time to save everyone! He's awesome, even in the spinoff!"

You press your head deeper into your pillow.

Hearing Levi rant about this fanmade AU of TSL was interesting two hours ago, back when he was casually chatting about it while the two of you played videogames. But now that the lights are out and you're desperately trying to drift off to dreamland (a place where, hopefully, there _won't_ be any TSL), you can't help but wish you hadn't offered to let him sleep over in your room.

"...And so the Lord of Masks and the Lord of Corruption basically switched spots! Isn't that so cool?"

You can hear Levi's eagerness, the way his face is lit up with every word he utters.

You don't respond to his question.

"Hey," Levi repeats, calling your name. But you remain quiet, pretending to be asleep. It's all you can do to gain a few more moments of silence; because you know that even the slightest response will launch him back into another, longer rant. "Hey, are you...asleep?"

There's a confusion in Levi's voice as he says that, almost as if he knows that you aren't. But when you continue to remain silent, pointedly breathing in and out at a steady pace, you can feel his shoulders slump as he lies down.

"Oh...I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier. I didn't...I didn't mean to bore you so much you'd fall asleep." You swear you can hear an oscillation in Levi's voice, the same kind of quiver someone gets right before they're about to cry. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I'll be quiet now."

The tenseness of your muscles eases up the moment you realize that he really _is_ quiet, that the room is silent and that the hammering in your head can finally stop.

You breathe a sigh of relief and shift the slightest on your bed, making yourself comfortable as you finally begin to approach a restful sleep.

Already, you're thinking about tomorrow morning, about what the two of you will do when you wake up and about what TSL merch you can surprise him with. Really, it's not that you dislike Levi's passions in any way—it was simply _too_ much tonight.

And in your mind, tonight is over. Done with, something you're already moving on from.

You can't possibly know that Levi, with all his inhuman senses, could tell that you weren't asleep. You can't possibly be aware that he knows you _chose_ to ignore him. And you'll never realize how you've dashed his self-esteem, making him think all over again that he's just a yucky otaku, someone who deserves to be forgotten and ignored, undeserving of honesty and affection from even his closest friends. 


	23. Mammon I-XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It just doesn't feel fair." + Mammon

Mammon doesn't expect you to find him out on this balcony.

You should be inside, after all. In, where it's warm. In, where the rest of his brothers are. In, where Lucifer is, where your lover is doubtlessly waiting for you with a patient smile on his face.

"Why are you out here?" You whisper to him, shivering.

Mammon instinctively goes to take off his jacket, ready to wrap it around your shoulders, but it seems that Lucifer has already taken care of that. The firstborn's thick fur coat rests on your shoulders and envelopes your figure whole, a bold mark of _Lucifer's_ territory that you seem entirely willing to adorn.

"It was too loud inside." Mammon looks away from you, knowing that staring at you longer will just make him jealous. "Had to get out."

"Mm, I feel you." You take a step closer to Mammon and he curses under his breath because he can't bring himself to pull away when you lean your shoulder against his, the demon hating how utterly oblivious you are to how fast you're making his heart beat. "Devildom parties are so much more hectic than what we have in the human world. Even with Lucifer trying to keep everything tame, I always need to step out to catch my breath."

Mammon doesn't say anything.

A part of him wishes that you'll take the hint, that you'll sense that he wants to be alone and you're interrupting something. But at the same time, there's a possessive fire that lights in Mammon's body when he feels how you lean against him, and he wishes that you would just stay by his side forever.

"Mammon," You finally mumble out after a long silence, turning to him. "You've been distant lately. Lucifer is... we're concerned." You tug his jacket, forcing him to look you in the eye. "Are you okay?"

The Avatar of Greed swallows nervously, hating how earnest your eyes are. Whenever you look at him like that, it strips him bare, exposing him completely. He can't lie to you, can't deceive you the way he does so many others.

"It just doesn't feel fair," He finally whispers, his voice so quiet that the wind could carry it away.

"What doesn't?" You ask, concern furrowing your eyebrows closer together. "What isn't fair?"

_You picked him over me,_ Mammon thinks. _You picked Lucifer over me without even knowing I was a choice._

But Mammon can't say that.

No, his big brother has _finally_ found someone who makes him happy—not just happy in the soft, doting way Lucifer gets whenever one of his brothers does something to make him proud, but _truly_ happy and overjoyed to even be alive—and Mammon can't jeopardize that. He loves his brother too much, loves _you_ too much to ruin the picture-perfect relationship you have.

"Lucifer took Goldie away again," Mammon mumbles, mindlessly going with the lie he thinks will make the most sense. "Been missing her, is all."

You're silent.

Mammon can tell that you don't believe him, that the slump in your shoulders is out of frustration for having failed to find out what was truly bothering the secondborn. But Mammon knows that this moment of frustration is better for you than the weeks of heartache he'll cause if he tells you the truth.

"Okay," You mumble after a long silence. "I'll talk to Luci about it. But if there's anything else, I'm here for you. And you know you can tell me anything, right, Mammon?"

The demon nods head.

"Of course."

"And if you ever think there's anything else that's bothering you, you'll make sure to tell me so I can fix it?" You cross your arms, looking suspiciously similar to Lucifer when you square your shoulders and try to make demands of Mammon, and the secondborn can't help but crack a genuine smile at the sight.

"I will," He assures you, cracking his usual lopsided grin.

But no matter how sweet his smile is, the words will forever be a lie.

He won't. 


	24. Diavolo I-XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The only thing I learned from love is the power it gives someone to crush you." + Diavolo

The prince has always been your world.

You were set to marry him just a decade after he came into rule, the Demon King and your own family readily agreeing that yes, your powers would be best suited to serving Diavolo and the realm. You weren't even a century old, back then, but already your fate had been decided for you, placed in the arms of a strange red-haired man who had an enchanting laugh.

You studied your betrothed from afar for what felt like eons, attending RAD and lapping up every ounce of news you've ever been able to find, consciously staying as physically close to him as possible so that you'd be ready for him on the day when he'd finally decided to meet his future spouse.

But all the hours of poring over his picture, of watching interviews on your phone and memorizing speeches he'd delivered, seem to go to waste when you finally sit in front of him.

Because the prince is nothing like what you imagined him to be.

"And they've passed all physical fitness tests?" Diavolo double-checks, glancing at his butler as you sit across him.

"Yes, my lord."

The prince doesn't address you, doesn't look at you, doesn't even really seem to think about you the entire time you're seated across from him, ignoring you completely to pore over your file. Every now and then, he'll mumble out a fact, arching a judgmental eyebrow his butler's way before the demon will confirm that yes, those are indeed the amalgamated reports of your student record at RAD and yes, they are true.

It is humiliating.

The happy-go-lucky facade that you're so used to seeing in public has vanished as if it never existed in the first place, leaving only a cruel prince in front of you who frowns when he reads aloud the number to your weight.

"If I am not to your liking, I would be happy to leave and permit you to find someone more suitable."

The words leave your mouth before you can think (and really, you _need_ to start thinking before you speak), and both the butler and the prince raise their eyebrows at you in surprise, clearly not having expected that you would actually speak up.

But your cheeks burn with shame and your eyes ache with the urge to shed hot, humiliated tears—so you refuse to regret your decision, challenging the prince with a firm glare as he blinks at you.

"Well," Diavolo mutters, clearly caught off-guard. "It is good to know that you will not let the other members of royalty walk over you, at the very least."

"Though it would do you good to watch your tongue around my lord," The butler interjects sharply, his once-apathetic expression twisted into one of strict disapproval.

You ignore the butler, turning to the prince.

"You do not need me to physically be here to review my paperwork," You state calmly, gaining confidence now that Diavolo's attention is finally focused on you. "I am your subject to command, my lord, but I can't help but think that our marriage would be a smoother transition if we were to actually get to know each other beforehand."

"Oh?" Diavolo rests his chin on his palm, looking at you with an amused expression. The charming grin you're used to seeing outside begins to return, though it's just the barest quirk of his lips. "And what would you like us to do then, if not review the details of your files?"

"Get to know each other. Become friends."

You square your shoulders and lift your chin.

"Friendship will be necessary before either of us will ever be able to fall in love."

The prince laughs.

"Love," He drawls, drumming his fingers against the table. His smile fades the longer he taps them, quickly turning his expression into a sour grimace. "Our marriage will be one of power, not love. Please do not delude yourself into thinking otherwise."

You clench your jaw, trying your hardest to hold back a glare. "My lord, love is a necessity in all relationships between the crown and—"

"The only thing I have learned from love is the power it gives someone to crush you." The prince's eyes seem to flicker in candlelight, a dark memory passing through his mind before it is gone, silent. "Love is useless within our castle walls. If you wish for our marriage to be successful, you will not entertain such foolish notions."

The prince stands, abruptly deciding that the conversation is over.

"And if I refuse to marry someone who will not love me?" You declare, feeling bold. You raise your chin, meeting Diavolo's stare with the force that only someone as powerful as you would dare harbor.

"Then I shall select someone else to wed."


	25. Simeon I-XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I-Is this... Is it my fault?" + Simeon
> 
> TW: Implied suicide

Simeon often goes to the Altar of Rebirth to pray.

It is a place that gives him hope, a place that gives him spirit. It is where the newest angels get born, the reincarnated ones and God's creations alike, and Simeon has always adored the sensation of being the first one they see, of getting the opportunity to teach one more purified soul about the beautiful holiness of the land they've come to.

He thinks you've just about ruined that for him forever.

"Simeon," You whisper breathlessly, relief and happiness flooding into your veins the moment you see him. You're naked, as all angels are when they're birthed, but you don't seem to be preoccupied with covering yourself.

You run straight into his arms.

"L-Little lamb," Simeon whispers, horror beginning to seep in. "Little lamb, wh-why are you here? You weren't supposed to...you had more time left when we separated."

"I couldn't wait anymore," You wrap your arms around Simeon's neck, pulling him in for an embrace.

You hardly seem to notice how he's quaking in fear.

"I had to see you."

"You—" Simeon pulls away abruptly, practically pushing you off him. "You did this for me? Are—are you saying..." Simeon takes deep breaths, trying to stabilize himself. "I-Is this... Is it my fault?"

"What? N-no, it's not anyone's _fault,_ but—"

"But what, little lamb? You are dead and you died for me. You were a human and you interfered with God's will for my sake. There is...of course it is my fault."

There is a slump in Simeon's shoulders, and abruptly, the angel's wings don't seem so holy anymore.

"Simeon, wait," You whisper, trying to hold him back when he tries to move away. "Won't—I came here just for you." You place a chaste kiss on his cheek, knowing that he's not emotionally ready for anything more. "Please, just stay with me a little—"

"I must pray," Simeon interrupts, pushing you away. "I need to ask for forgiveness."


	26. Barbatos I-XXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This will be the last time you lie to me." + Barbatos
> 
> TW: Implied death

If you loved him, you would have known.

That's what Barbatos repeats in his mind like a mantra as he pulls you to his room—not the guest room he usually takes you to for your nightly endeavors but his _real_ room, the home of his powers and the single place in the world where he is unstoppable.

If you truly loved him, you would have known.

You seem to be able to tell that he's angry, either from the strong grip he has on your wrist as he leads you there or the angry silence that replaces your usual friendly conversations. In any case, you're smart enough not to comment on it, smart enough not to risk further aggravating him.

"Today was our anniversary, you know."

The words leave Barbatos's lips as soon as he reaches his room, and he unlocks his door carefully, without ever relinquishing his hold around your wrist.

You begin to tug away instantly.

"I don't want to go in there," You whisper, trying to step back. "Please don't make me—I don't—"

Barbatos pulls you inside as soon as the door is open.

"Barbatos, I didn't—I didn't _forget_ if that's what you're thinking, I was just planning to—"

"Planning to?" Barbatos smiles, transforming into his demon form. "Planning to what, my love? Surely you know that _I,_ of all demons, would have known if you were planning anything?"

"I—" You stop yourself before you can start to dig yourself into a deeper hole. "O-okay, I forgot. But that's just because of how _hectic_ things have been lately. I love you, Barbatos, and nothing can change—"

"Do not lie to me."

His eyes are cold, ruthless as he pulls you toward a door.

He doesn't believe you for a second. After all, if you loved him, you would have known. If you loved him, you would have wished him. If you loved him, you wouldn't have left him waiting for you this morning, a foolish smile plastered across his face because he had a little _too_ much faith in you.

"Get in," He orders, pushing you toward a door. It's the first time you're seeing this particular one, the first time you'll be traveling not toward the past or the future but to your literal demise, a land where you will be destroyed instantly.

"Please don't do this," You whisper, trying to stop him. Trying to appeal to whatever sense of love he has for you. "Please, I—I love you, you _know_ that, so—"

Barbatos scowls.

"This will be the last time you lie to me."

He pushes you into the door without a second thought, ignoring your agonized scream before time rips you apart; and with you now gone, Barbatos prepares for a new addition to the current timeline.

A _replacement_ for what he just destroyed.

And if that one still doesn't love him back—well, he can keep doing this forever, can't he?


End file.
